Chapter 19
nineteen
BONNIE
Danny’s mother died two weeks before Christmas.
The visitation was scheduled for this evening at Wheeler Funeral Home downtown, and the funeral would be tomorrow at the cemetery out near Miller Creek. All the preparations had been made ahead of time by Diane herself.
Her health had declined pretty rapidly in the last month. She’d been sleeping more and more during my visits, and I knew from Eldridge that Diane had been in quite a bit of pain.
Death was never easy, but sometimes it was a mercy.
That knowledge didn’t stop me from grieving her—crying over her loss and wishing things could have been different.
I arrived in the parlor of the funeral home alone.
Jack was working, but I hadn’t mentioned the death of my former mother-in-law to him.
I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because I’d never managed to explain my visits to a dying woman over the last few months.
It felt messy. Like I was still clinging to my past life in favor of my new one.
But I’d loved Diane. She wasn’t just Danny’s mom.
She’d been a big part of my life, too. I couldn’t just stop loving her, like flipping a switch, especially when she hadn’t done anything wrong.
I didn’t owe Danny anything, and I wasn’t attending the funeral for him. I was doing it for a woman who’d been like a second mother to me. And the grieving husband she was leaving behind.
Part of me worried about how Jack would interpret my dedication to my former in-laws, how he might read into my presence here tonight. Like it had been one more thing on a long list that I was unable to say no to.
I knew how Jack felt about the way I tried to keep the peace and make other people happy.
I figured he’d look at me with knowing disappointment.
However, it was wrong of me to project those reactions onto him.
I wasn’t married to Danny anymore—the person who’d actually made passive-aggressive jibes about my time and energy outside the home.
I shouldn’t be punishing Jack for mistakes my ex-husband had made.
I’d talk to Jack tonight and tell him about Diane. I’d explain myself because it was the right thing to do, not because I needed to justify my decisions.
The sickly sweet scent of flowers was nearly overwhelming, as was the crowd of people gathered to pay their respects at the small funeral home.
Diane had been a teacher in the community. Her influence was one of the reasons I’d become an educator. There were sure to be lots of her former students and coworkers from over the years, not to mention longtime neighbors and friends. Her passing would hit a lot of people hard.
I said hello to a few folks I recognized as I moved through the space. A television was looping a slideshow of photographs, and I stopped to watch. My already heavy heart squeezed with every grainy image that went by.
There she and Eldridge were in sepia tones, sitting in the back of an old Ford truck.
They looked like teenagers. Then another snapshot from their wedding day, big smiles on both their faces.
I watched as the little family welcomed their daughters and finally Danny.
Then it was a myriad of memories from birthdays and holidays set to music, many with my own face staring back at me.
There was one photo I’d never seen before, though.
It was taken in Diane’s kitchen. She and I were in the middle of canning strawberry jam.
We weren’t even looking at the camera, just quietly working side by side.
Familiarity born of time and tradition. I could hear her voice telling me the secret was to add a teaspoon of butter to the jam while it cooked, right at the end.
I pulled a tissue out of my purse and wiped my eyes before finding my way into the main room, where the visitation was being held.
The receiving line was long, and I settled in to wait as friends and acquaintances occasionally came by to give me a hug or a kind word.
Eventually, I made it to Jackie and Meredith, Danny’s sisters. Meredith’s husband, Ollie, was with her, and I hugged them all and passed along my condolences.
Danny pulled me into an embrace before I’d even released his eldest sister.
I stiffened but said quietly, “I’m so sorry about your mom. She was one of my favorite people in the world.”
He didn’t reply, but I felt him swallow several times against my shoulder in an attempt to get his emotions under control.
With quick, efficient movements, I pulled away, unsure how to navigate this weird place with the family that had once been mine. Danny’s eyes were red-rimmed and devastated.
But I moved over to Eldridge and offered what kind words I could. I felt his body shaking against mine, silent sobs wracking his thin frame.
It was difficult to take a step back, to leave these people with their grief, a sadness that I shared too.
I didn’t realize Danny had reached for my hand until he tried to reel me back into his side.
“You should be up here with us,” he said brokenly. “You’re family. You were hers just as much as the rest of us.”
My eyes widened, and I looked helplessly to Danny’s father and siblings. Someone to step in and tell him that wouldn’t be appropriate. But I thought they were all too grief-stricken to manage.
I shook my head, noting the folks gathered around the room starting to take notice and stare. Gently, but firmly, I said, “No, Danny. That wouldn’t be right.” Then I met the gazes of his family members and said one last time, “I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
Finally, I tugged my fingers free from Danny’s desperate hold and made my way to the exit.
The winter air stung my damp cheeks, and I pulled my black peacoat tighter around my body to ward off the sudden chill.
I wasn’t aware of footsteps behind me until I was nearly to my car. Turning, I found Danny jogging across the parking lot.
“Danny,” I sighed as he came to a stop in front of me, puffs of air leaving his mouth as he caught his breath.
“Just—I’m sorry, Bonnie. I’m sorry. I made a mistake. You and me. We belong together. Since we were kids. I promised my mother I’d fix this.” His face crumpled for a brief moment before he composed himself. “Before she died, I told her I’d get you back. Put things right.”
I closed my eyes, feeling fresh tears escape down my cheeks.
“You can’t really want to throw it all away, Bon,” he added.
My body was trembling. From the cold, from my anger, from bone-deep weariness . . . I didn’t know. This wasn’t the time or the place, but I couldn’t let this go on.
So I kept my voice even and said, “No, Danny. I didn’t want to throw it all away, but you did that for us. And you don’t get to take it back now. I’m sorry about your momma. I really am. But stay out of my life.”
Jack
Bonnie was asleep on my sofa when I let myself in just after two in the morning. We’d been busier than normal, and I’d had to help Sebastian and Sasha close.
I knew something was wrong before I’d even taken off my shoes.
She was still wearing her winter coat, her body curved in on itself like she needed protecting. The blanket lay unused over the back of the sofa, despite being within reach. Bonnie’s face was tense, even in sleep, and her mascara had run at some point, flecks of it around her eyes and temples.
Frowning, I sat down near her feet and wrapped my hand gently around her ankle. I kept my voice low so I didn’t startle her and said, “Bonnie.”
She blinked in groggy awareness before focusing on me. Then her face crumpled, and she reached for me.
I scooped her into my arms, drawing her tight against me even as my heart hammered in my chest.
This was it. She was here to break things off.
Danny had probably gone to see her, made his play to win her back, and now she’d come to end things.
Bonnie was a kind, empathetic person. Of course, she’d be upset at the thought of hurting me.
That was the only explanation I had for why she was so out of sorts on a random Tuesday night.
Despite the warmth of her slight frame against me, I went cold at the realization. My throat was so tight that I worried I wouldn’t be able to speak. That was probably a good thing. It would keep me from begging her to change her mind when the time came.
But then Bonnie choked out brokenly, “Danny’s mom died,” and all those what-ifs dissolved in the face of her unexpected announcement.
Her fingers tightened on the back of my shirt, so I ran my hand down her spine in a soothing gesture. “I’m so sorry,” I managed.
Bonnie had been with her ex since they were kids. She’d probably been in his family’s life just as long. This was obviously a difficult loss for her. Likely made all the more complicated due to her divorce.
“What do you need?” I asked softly.
She pulled back abruptly at my words, her face creased with worry and damp with sorrow.
“I need to tell you something. Diane—Danny’s mom—she had cancer.
She’d been in remission for years, but it came back, and she was at home with hospice.
A while ago, Danny came to see me at work to ask me to visit her.
So I did. I went to see her every week—without Danny there.
I brought some of her favorite dishes to try to get her to eat. But we all knew the end was coming.”
I absorbed this and tried not to feel the weight of deception. Bonnie was grieving, and this wasn’t really the time to question her motives. But I still asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, looking down at her lap where she clutched one of my hands like she needed to keep me from pulling away.
“I guess I thought you’d be disappointed in me.
Or think I was being too nice or stretching myself too thin.
But Diane was like a mother to me, Jack.
I’ve known her since I was fourteen years old.
I love—loved her a lot. Danny’s father, too. ”
“I’m not your keeper, Bonnie.”